


Falling Apart

by DoubleX



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleX/pseuds/DoubleX
Summary: "What are you?!""Kid, you'd be dead before I could explain it all - and you still wouldn't believe me.""Like...dead from old age?""No."





	Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Jack and Mark have both specifically stated they aren't comfortable with Septiplier, so I not only apologise and express that the views of these characters do not necessarily reflect my views in any way, shape or form but would also like to stress that these characters are not how the author imagines Jack and Mark to be. Sometimes it's just fun to see what you can do with an established personality :)
> 
> Respectfully,  
> The Author

The first time he'd seen the man, Jack had been only four. A reluctant and apple-cheeked child, dragged complaining around the supermarket until he'd had enough of looking at bright red strawberries and disgusting broccoli. In the end, he'd dug in his heels as his mother manoeuvred the trolley around a corner and refused to go any further. Of course, he slipped and fell backwards, wide blue eyes too old for tears of pain and too young for tears of sadness. "Ma?" he asked in silent confusion as he fell, cold tile rushing up to meet him an-

And then the man was there, scooping up as if he were a newborn and passing him back to his mother. She seemed torn between scolding him and thanking this kind stranger, who doffed his hat with a low chuckle and softly reaffirmed that it was nothing, anyone would have done it, there was no harm done. Unconvinced, little Jack gazed up at him in awe for a moment and the man waved cheerily before strolling over to the checkouts with his own trolley. Jack didn't go shopping with his Ma for a while after that, to his relief.

* * *

The second time, the first time he remembered it himself instead of through the vague lens of his mother's words, Jack had been seven. The whole scene was rendered in stark clarity, a comforting memory of what had at the time seemed to be just simple human kindness. A snub-nosed and cheerful child, climbing trees with Malcolm at the edge of the forest whilst his father looked on and read the newspaper, Jack was happy. The easy banter of brothers, of longstanding friends and mischievous kids, floated through the muggy summer air like a cloud of buzzing mayflies. Respected big brother Malcolm, not really a kid anymore and yet treated as such by the other McLoughlins, chuckled as Jack puffed out his cheeks in raw effort and scrabbled at a branch. "Mally, s'not  _funny_ ," he whined, pulling himself up onto the bough until he was swinging slowly back and forth like a sloth, over the packed dirt that had been the playroom floor of their childhood. In some similar sun-dappled moment, Jack would one day make a passing remark about how easy it was to find playmates as the youngest of five. "Try five  _hundred_ ," the reply would come, and Jack would laugh and ask more questions as the leaves and his hair fluttered in the slight breeze.

But this was not that day, and the only other people around were his schoolmates - playing in the mud with happy squeals - and the few joggers skirting the trees cloaked in strange colours and smiles. In a word, peaceful. In another, normal. In a few more, the next chapter of a story that had begun long, long before. Jack didn't know any of this, though - he was too busy feeling the elation of a hard-won achievement. "I'm finally up in the Twisty Tree!" he shouted up to Malcolm, whose face was hovering somewhere between childish bitterness and brotherly pride. Giving in to the latter, the bigger little McLoughlin reached out a hand. Of course, Jack grabbed for it and slipped, tumbling head-first through a prickly layer of leaves already speckled with yellow, the packed earth closer and harder with each glance an-

And then the man was there, diving to the dusty ground and wrapping strong (albeit hot pink Lycra-clad) arms around the terrified child. Only Malcolm noticed, brow creasing. The exchange had been so quick and silent, but he was thankful. You weren't supposed to talk to strangers, but this widely-smiling jogger had quite possibly saved his little brother's life. Thanking him stiffly, Malcolm pulled a wide-eyes Jack out of earshot and after a moment the man kept running. Jack didn't get to climb the Twisty Tree for a while after that, to his relief.

* * *

The third time, Jack was twenty. Memories of childhood had been comfortably faded and worn, and all that was left of those two moments was a faint sense of coincidence...and an embarrassing story or two to tell at parties when the silence stretched out like the night sky. The third time, everything changed. The third time, Jack was dragged into a world so far beyond his comprehension it could well have been heaven.

 

Or hell.

 


End file.
